“Then what changed?”
For a moment, I almost laughed.
He truly wanted me to say it for him.
“You told me not to call you my future husband.”
“That was not a breakup.”
“No,” I agreed.
“It was clarification.”
His nostrils flared.
“I said we weren’t married yet.”
“You said not to make us sound permanent.”
Vivienne lifted one hand.
“People say things when they’re irritated.”
I turned to her.
“He wasn’t irritated.”
I remembered his smile.
The little tap against my wrist.
The ease with which he had humiliated me because he expected no consequence.
“He was comfortable.”
That silenced her.
Adrian pushed the folder away.
“So what is this? A punishment?”
“No.
It’s the removal of an assumption.”
“What assumption?”
“That you can reject the future while continuing to spend from it.”
One of the guests looked up at that.
Adrian noticed.
His face darkened.
“You’re enjoying this.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
That accusation hurt more than I expected, because it showed how little he understood me.
I had imagined our wedding more times than I could count.
I had imagined my father walking beside me.
I had imagined Adrian waiting at the end of the aisle.
I had saved fabric samples and menu cards.
I had listened to him argue about chair styles because I thought one day it would become a story we laughed about.
There was nothing enjoyable about learning that I had been preparing for permanence with a man who considered the word itself a threat.
“No,” I said.
“I’m not enjoying any of this.”
I slid my engagement ring from my finger.
For the first time that afternoon, Adrian looked frightened.
“Mara.”
I set the ring on the table between us.
Vivienne inhaled sharply.
Camille whispered, “Oh my God.”
Adrian ignored them.
“Don’t do something stupid because you’re angry.”
The old version of me would have answered that.
She would have explained that she was not angry, that she was hurt, that she loved him, that she only wanted respect.
She would have tried to make herself understandable enough to deserve kindness.
I was tired of auditioning for basic dignity.
“I’m not angry,” I said.
“Then put the ring back on.”
“No.”
His hand flattened against the table.
“Mara, we have hundreds of people expecting a wedding.”
